


The Great Christmas Affair

by Flynntervention, Mareepysheepy



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, This is not angsty, mentions of cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynntervention/pseuds/Flynntervention, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareepysheepy/pseuds/Mareepysheepy
Summary: It’s days before Christmas and life should be full of festive cheer. Except for one group of friends, who are willing to risk frostbite, arrest and boredom all in the pursuit of truth:Did Butters really see Tweek Tweak cheating on Craig Tucker?





	The Great Christmas Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written entirely with Impalamano :)

“Fellas, it’s awful!” Butters announces, contents of his lunch tray clattering when he clumsily bangs it down on their usual lunch table. “Tweek is having an affair!”

The occupants of the table - Kyle, Stan, Cartman, Kenny, Token, Clyde - all look up from their lunches, startled out of murmured conversations.

“Jesus, Butters,” Cartman snaps, “You almost made me drop my chick— Wait. What did you say?”

“Tweek’s been cheatin’ on poor Craig!” Butters repeats, wringing his hands. He looks awfully sad about the fact. They are after all, South Park’s pride and joy.

“Bullshit,” Kyle fires back with absolute certainty. “There’s no way Tweek would cheat on Craig. He’s besotted with him!”

“Yeah, dude,” Clyde agrees in his nasal drawl. “Craig and Tweek are crazy into each other.” As Craig’s best friend, Clyde considers himself an authority on the matter. Not that he and Craig sit around talking about love and all that “romancey” crap, but he does sometimes offer up comments that provide Clyde with little snippets of insight. From that alone, Clyde knows that Craig and Tweek are in starry-eyed, domestic bliss heaven.

“I know what I saw, fellas!” Butters insists. He’s upset by the insinuation he’s lying. He’s a good boy and good boys don’t make up nasty lies. Especially not about friends. Boys that lie get grounded, and Butters does not want to be grounded.

“You saw it?” Stan asks,straightening and leaning forward to listen more intently.

“Bullshit.” Kyle mutters the curse this time.

“You bet I did! Why, Tweek walked right up to him and- and gave him this big old smile and then kissed him right on the lips. And this weren’t no kiss you’d give your grandma!” Butters says in a rush, brow furrowed.

The table falls quiet. Every occupant turns to look to where Craig is animatedly talking with Tweek four tables over, unaware of the attention, his focus solely on Tweek who’s smiling as he listens. It’s a typical Wednesday arrangement and nothing looks out of place.

“No way,” Clyde says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels. “Craig would know if something was up.”

“Are you sure it was Tweek?” Token asks, uncertain.

“As sure as I am the sky is blue!” Butters insists.

“Yeah, he’s pretty unmistakable, dude,” Stan adds. Butters nods at him, grateful for the support.

“Wait, wait,” Kyle breaks in. He pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture of frustration he’s subconsciously picked up from Stan. “So you saw Tweek - _Tweek_ \- walk up to this guy, smile and kiss him on the mouth?”

Butters nods quickly, eyes almost comically wide. “Okay, so… where did you see this?”

“At the mall! It was brazen as anything!” Butters replies.

“Well, well, well,” Cartman finally speaks up.

Kyle pins him with a vitriolic glare. “Cartman, this doesn’t involve you,” he warns.

It’s useless. Cartman smells drama like a shark smells blood. Dark glee fills his eyes, though he quickly tries to smother it with innocent concern. “I’m just so worried about our poor friend Craig,” Cartman replies, voice oozing insincerity. “Especially _so_ close to Christmas. But if you’re happy to let him get hurt and humiliated, that’s your choice Kyle. You are a Jew after all. It’s in your blood to ruin Christmas.”

“You’re the one who’ll ruin Christmas for him if you go charging in with half the facts, fatass!” Kyle hurls back. Stan pats Kyle on the arm to snap him out of grinding his teeth and launching across the table to kick Cartmans’s ass, not for the first time. The fact no one in the surrounding tables so much as raise an eyebrow at the escalating voices is testament to how often this happens.

“We have to find out the facts,” Stan says, squeezing Kyle’s shoulder. “There’s gotta be a reasonable explanation, right? Like you said, Tweek and Craig are totally into each other. I mean, just look at them.”

They all turn in unison. Picture-perfect, Tweek now contentedly has his head resting on Craig’s shoulder, Craig’s long-fingered hand loosely curled around Tweek’s right thigh. Tweek is poking at Craig’s lunch with his fork (beef and vegetable stew with dumplings) so Craig nudges the tray nearer to him, rolling a dumpling over with his own fork like that scene from _Lady and the Tramp_ when Tramp nudges over the last meatball with his little doggy nose.

Craig puts down his fork, and then slides his arm around the boy’s shoulders, a fond, subconscious gesture that isn’t unfamiliar to any of them.

“I can’t stand to watch!” Butters cries, covering his eyes. “What’re we gonna do, fellas?”

“Maybe we should just confront Tweek,” Stan suggests, shrugging. He takes a big bite of his burger afterwards.

“No way,” Cartman says, “We gotta stake Tweek out and find out for sure. And get pictures for blackma— evidence. To show Craig of course.” Kyle punches Cartman in the forearm. “Ow, _dude_ , you stupid fucking Jew what was that for?”

“We are not stalking Tweek or taking creepy-ass photos. Stan is right, we should just confront Tweek,” Kyle answers. “Tweek is an anxious mess, I bet he can’t lie to save his life. We’d know straight away.”

“Well, actually,” Clyde begins, lowering his voice conspiratorially. The other boys lean in to listen closely, intrigued. “Tweek is a really good actor. I bet he could easily lie about cheating on Craig. And he’s in drama club now, so he’ll have levelled up his skills. I bet he’s at least a level ten liar by now. Not that I think he _is_ cheating, of course,” he adds hastily.

“Okay first of all, this is if he’s lying,” Kyle interrupts, still not entirely buying it. Tweek has always been a good guy in his mind. Sure, he’s a little odd at times and he has some issues, but to think he could hurt his boyfriend that way, well… it was a little disconcerting. “And second of all, being a good actor doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a good liar.”

“I still say stalking him is our best bet,” Cartman sings, stabbing his fork into Clyde’s last piece of chicken and shoving it whole into his mouth. Clyde yells in protest, then slouches in his seat, huffing and muttering “I was saving that…” Cartman of course ignores him, continuing, “All we need to do is see where he goes after he leaves Craig.”

“Doesn’t Craig walk Tweek home every night?” Stan questions, “if Craig catches us following them, he’ll be super pissed.”

Cartman scoffs, downing his second Coke Zero, and then burping obnoxiously. “I’m not scared of Craig.”

“Uh, Yeah you are, Cartman,” Kyle says, sniggering. “He’s kicked your lard ass like a hundred times and you’ve cried every time, too.”

“I have not!” Cartman shrieks, cheeks heating up.

“You kinda have,” Stan agrees.

“Sorry but it’s true, Eric,” Butters adds apologetically.

“Mmmph mmm,” Kenny agrees, sounding a lot less apologetic.

Cartman seethes in his seat. “You Guys are assholes. Fucking Craig, I hope his bimbo boyfriend is doing the dirty on him, that asshole deserves it.”

Kyle, smug in the knowledge Cartman has been put in his place for now, says, “so what should we do?”

“I still think we should just ask Tweek what’s going on,” Stan says. His voice carries a heavy sense of resignation though. He can already sense that the reasonable approach is just that: far too reasonable.

“Or we could ask the girls what they think?” Token adds.

“Gay,” Cartman scoffs. “You just want to a chance to talk to Nichole.”

“How is _that_ gay?” Token scowls.

“Guys!” Kyle cuts in. Whatever restraint he was clinging onto has evaporated. He’s committed to the cause now, and ready to get to the bottom of this. Cartman perks up at the tone of his voice, mouth curving into a victorious smirk. Stan eyes him and shrugs, letting him do as he wants, burnt one too many times from standing in the way of Kyle on a mission. “Okay, so we need a plan. Clyde, you’re Craig’s best friend. Can you tell us Tweek and Craig’s schedule?”

Clyde looks a bit bewildered over being put in the spotlight. “Uh. I mean, I guess? They’re pretty much always together though.”

“Yeah, but are there any gaps?” Kyle presses.

“There’s gotta be,” Butters jumps in, emphatic. “Else how else did I see him cheatin’ at the mall?”

“When was that, Butters?” Kyle asks. He lifts his hips and fishes out his phone, thumbs moving rapidly over the screen as he pulls up his diary.

“About six-thirty last night, South Park mall,” Butters replies.

Kyle nods as he makes a note of it. “Clyde?” He prompts, looking up from his phone. “Any idea what Craig was doing last night at six thirty?”

Clyde’s face scrunches slightly in thought. “Uh… actually, yeah I do!” He sits up straighter, eyes wide with excitement. “I asked him if he wanted to hang out and play Call of Duty, but he said that he had to go out to dinner with his parents.”

“So he didn’t say he was gonna’ be with Tweek?” Kyle presses.

“Nope,” Clyde replies, looking sure of himself.

Kyle fiddles with his phone again. “He hasn’t put any posts up on Coonstagram about dinner last night.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t really use Coonstagram,” Stan argues, swirling a fry around in a blob of ketchup. He punctuates his point by tossing it into his mouth.

Kyle sucks a breath in through his teeth. “True. Damn it, Craig.”

“Brah thinks he’s too cool for social media,” Cartman speaks up, recovered from his knock-back. He gives them an exaggerated shrug. “Besides, his family are too poor to go out to eat. Smells like Kenny’s mom’s pussy to me.”

Kenny makes an indignant noise that sounds like ‘ _fuck you_ ’.

“Moving on,” Kyle says, eyes back on his phone. “They weren’t together last night. And we know that they hang out together pretty much all day Wednesday day because Tweek works Wednesday evenings, so that rules out today. Do you know what their Thursdays look like?”

Clyde shrugs. “Craig has lunch with Tweek, then he’s with us for fourth period, and then Tweek joins us for fifth. Then they usually go home together.”

“And Friday?”

Clyde pauses to think, taking a gulp of his soda. “Um… Craig’s off in his nerdy physics class most of the morning, he eats with us, Tweek does his lunchtime drama stuff, then… Tweek’s in our English class. Then he rushes off to do his Friday shift at the shop.”

“So they’re not together Friday evenings?” Kyle asks, eyebrow arching as he looks up at Clyde.

“Nope,” Clyde confirms. “Craig gets really pissy about it too. Sometimes he just makes us hang around in the shop all evening.”

“Do you know if Craig plans to hang out there this Friday?” Kyle asks.

Clyde shakes his head. “Nah. He said he has stuff to do this Friday. I asked if he wanted to get pizza.”

Kyle nods, looking satisfied at the picture that he’s building. “So-”

“So what we do,” Cartman butts in, “is skip the next two periods, go back to mine and wear kick-ass disguises, grab walkie-talkies, and take up strategic positions around Tweek’s house after he’s finished work. Then we follow that cheating bitch and, using Butters’ dad’s drone and our smartphones, we take photographic evidence of the affair and show it to Craig.” Cartman uses his mashed potato to emphasise his plan, shaping what’s left of it into a rough square and jabbing around it with his fork.

Kyle’s mouth snaps shut. Then he sighs out a “ _God damn it,_ ” and puts his phone away.

—

“This is so stupid,” Stan is saying, fidgeting beside Kyle who is shuffling from foot-to-foot, freezing cold. There are far too many of them to look particularly inconspicuous, but they’re trying to regardless, squashed together opposite Tweek’s house and wearing grass green and mud brown camouflage smudges on their faces, complemented by an array of combat-inspired outfits.

“This disguise is stupid,” Token grumbles. The face paint is making his face itch. He wriggles his nose in an attempt to ease the uncomfortable sensation. “Why did I let you guys talk me into lurking around my friend’s house on a cold Wednesday evening?”

“Duh, because Craig is your gay bestie and you care about his everlasting happiness,” Cartman remarks, a pair of high grade binoculars in his hands and fixed on Tweek’s window. It’s very obvious to everyone involved that _that_ isn’t what Cartman cares about. “Maybe he’s in there right now, fucking his bit-on-the-side.”

“While his parents are home?” Kyle gripes, rubbing his arms, “that’s really dumb. And do you seriously need binoculars? He’s right across the god damn street.”

“I don’t think Craig and Tweek have even had sex,” Clyde pipes up thoughtfully. He’s ignored.

Cartman gives Kyle a look of incredulity. “Don’t you wanna do this properly, Kyle? You’re the one calling poor Butters a liar.”

“I did not!” Kyle yelps. Incidentally, Butters hadn’t been allowed out on account of the fact he’d got an “unacceptable” grade in Art. Art. “I’m just trying to be a voice of reason here. We still don’t know for certain anything is going on, remember? We can’t jump to conclusions.”

“Which is why, Kyle.” Cartman mockingly elongates his name. “We’re doing this properly. We have to be sure before we rat him out to his pissy boyfriend, don’t we?”

Kyle sighs in aggravation. It’s fucking annoying when Cartman is right, even if his motives are very different to everyone else’s. He looks up sharply when he catches sight of movement at the Tweek household, Tweek emerging from his house - in a _coat_? - gaze sweeping left and right before he hops down two steps to the path leading to the street. He looks unusually chipper and energetic, considering that he only got off work twenty minutes ago.

Immediately the group falls silent, watching with the intensity of what they thought was CIA agents. In reality they look exactly like the bunch of sixteen year olds dressed up in fake cammo pretending to stake out a suspect that they are.

“Totally suspicious,” Cartman mutters.

“What’s suspicious?” Stan asked, “he’s just leaving his house on a Wednesday night. We look way more suspicious right now fucking stalking the guy.”

“He’s in a _coat_ ,” Cartman says. “When does Freek wear a coat?”

“It is kinda weird,” Clyde adds, sounding curious.

“Don’t call him Freek,” Token says, eyes narrowed. “That’s my best friend’s boyfriend and my friend.”

Cartman has the surprising decency to take back the insult, correcting himself to “Tweek”. Token continues to glare but nods his approval, then turns to see where Tweek is heading. Together, not in particular unison, they follow at a distance, hiding behind cars, trees, bushes, and -optimistically- lamp posts.

They can hear Tweek singing to himself in the distance, a cheerful Christmas tune they recognise but can’t place.

“This is the way to the mall,” Stan notes to Kyle, frowning. They’re at the back of the group. Stan grips his arm lightly, holding him back, and they both pause to let the others go ahead. Stan drops his voice when he says, “do you really think he might be going to see, I don’t know, whoever Butters saw him with?”

Kyle shrugs. “I honestly don’t know, dude. It’s a kinda weird coincidence.”

“He could be Christmas shopping?” Stan says.

“On a Wednesday night at this time?” Kyle frowns. Then he shrugs. “Look, Stan. I’m as dubious about this as you are, but we owe it to Craig to find out if what Butters saw is real.”

Stan fixes him with a naked sort of look. “We owe it to Craig? Really?”

Kyle huffs and looks away, crumpling under Stan’s scrutiny. “Oh come on, Stan. If this was anyone else’s drama, Craig would be leading the charge. I’m interested in what’s happening. Shoot me.”

Stan nods slowly, satisfied. He and Kyle recently re-pledged to keep the bullshit to a minimum when they’d been reviewing their Super Best Friends pledge. Straightening, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t how envisioned spending my night,” he admits.

“Me either,” Kyle agrees. “But I do genuinely hope that nothing bad is up with those two. I’ve always thought of Tweek as a decent guy.”

“It’s not like Craig didn’t cheat on him that one time,” Stan reasons. “Might be a delayed revenge?”

“When- elementary school?” Kyle asks. Stan nods, somber. “Oh, that Michael guy? I don’t think anything actually happened, Stan. They were young and Craig was probably confused over media designed for female consumption that fetishises two guys being in a romantic relationship _actually_ making him gay.”

“Well all I’m saying is that it’s not like they have an unblemished track record,” Stan argues. “Even if Craig didn’t end up doing anything with that Michael, he still intended to.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Kyle replies, always the suspicious one. “We should hurry anyway, or we’re going to lose the other guys.”

“Yeah, because this camouflage is so fucking awesome,” Stan mutters in a fiercely sarcastic tone.

Kyle rolls his eyes and quickens the pace, catching up with where the rest of the guys are crouched behind some parked cars in the mall parking lot.

“Nice of you two to stop making out,” Cartman says in a snippy voice. “We’re gonna lose him if we don’t move now.”

“Whatever,” Stan shoots back.

“Okay, we’re going to have to run in, do a sweet ninja roll behind the popcorn cart and wait. Token, you climb the pillars and find a good vantage point, then you can be our guide,” Cartman says, using hand motions to sketch out his plan.

“Wait, why am _I_ the one climbing stuff?” Token asks, dubiously eying up the decorative columns through the glass panes of the mall. They look way too high to be safe.

“Because you’re black?” Cartman explains patiently. “All black people can climb, duh.”

“What the fuck?” Token scowls. “What does being black have to do with climbing?” His pitch rises sharply, angry at the implication which, coming from Cartman, is never inoffensive.

“Uh, hello? Miles Morales is fucking sweet at climbing things.”

“Miles Morales is _Spider-man_ ,” Token shouts, growing frustrated. “His heritage has nothing to do with his ability to climb!”

“Guys!” Kyle breaks in. “If you’re done arguing, we’ve lost Tweek.”

—

They re-assemble -minus Token- after school the next day at Tweek. Bros coffee house nursing fruit teas and hot chocolates as they stew over how much of a waste last night was. Tweek also happens to be working behind the counter, but whatever initial dubious pleasure he’d felt at having company seems to have quickly dissolved into fretful concern over the looks they keep shooting at him.

After last night’s impromptu argument over whether all black people are or are not spider-man, the squad had belatedly realised that they’d lost track of Tweek. Throwing caution into the wind, they’d opted for charging into the mall at full pelt, Cartman throwing orders to split up and check all the places that cheating skanks might hide. Between them they’d managed to check out most of the places where one might grab a sneaky date with a side bitch before the armed guards finally cornered them and demanded to know what organisation they represented.

Worse of all, when they’d been sitting in the back of the police van with Clyde sobbing noisily, Cartman had pointed out that it had all been for nothing anyway since none of them had seen so much of a lick of Tweek.

As if sensing that their thoughts are on him, Tweek comes over, clutching his pad tightly in one trembling hand. “Hey, guys,” he says. “Did you want anything else?”

“What, like you do? What you’ve got isn’t enough?” Cartman pins him with a sharp look.

Tweek flinches, clearly confused. “Uh? What?”

“Ignore him,” Kyle jumps in. “I’ll take another camomile tea, please.”

“You need to start doing Irish coffee,” Stan grumbles.

Tweek nods. “I’ll mention it to mom and dad again,” he fishes a pencil out of his apron pocket, pitted and flaking from chew marks, and writes Kyle’s order down. “Did you guys hear about the terrorist attack on the mall last night? That’s scary shit, man.”

Cartman straightens. “Did you see any of it?”

Tweek startles, then looks away, fidgeting with his pad. “No, I heard about it this morning. I was working until late last night.”

“So you weren't anywhere near the mall last night?” Cartman presses.

There are times where Tweek is a superb actor. This is not one of them. “No,” He squeaks. All of them eye him with suspicion. “I wasn’t! Why would I lie?”

“You tell us,”Cartman answers, “why would you lie about not being at the mall if you _were_ at the mall?”

Tweek looks horribly confused by the line of questioning. “A-anyway, did anyone else want another drink? My shift ends soon and I’m going to see Craig.”

“Oh you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend, huh?” Cartman says, lifting an eyebrow. Nonchalantly he spins his spoon between his fingers.

Beneath the table Kyle gives Cartman a swift kick to the shin. Cartman jumps in his seat, yelping, the spoon falling to the table with a clatter. “How about you let Tweek get back to work and shut your stupid mouth already,” Kyle says, his stare speaking volumes. Cartman glares back at him, resisting the urge to nurse his bruising leg and looking back to Tweek.

“Fine, I want a caramel latte with a triple shot of caramel, whipped cream on top and a chocolate flake,” Cartman demands, Tweek scribbling the order, “and a piece of chocolate cake, too. And a pack of cookies. And a slice of vanilla cheesecake.”

Tweek nods and scurries off, eager to escape their weird behaviour. Kyle’s nose wrinkles. “That is disgusting, dude.”

“Are you gonna eat all of that?” Clyde says, awed. “That’s gross.”

“Hey!” Cartman cries, jabbing a finger in Clyde’s direction. Clyde follows it with his eyes. “You’re the last person to lecture me on my weight, fat boy! I need the energy to stay so fucking buff.”

“Dude!” Stan cries. Clyde’s eyes fill with tears. He starts to bawl. A number of the coffee house’s patrons turn to look. “Dude, now look what you did!”

“Did you make my best friend cry, you fat turd?”

All of them look up to see Craig standing behind Cartman, his arms folded.

“Craaaaig,” Clyde whines between wails, gripping onto the hem of Craig’s coat and burying his face there. He’s always been a little whiny and needy and most of the time Craig stands up for him. _Most_ of the time. “Cartman called me faaaat.”

Craig is already an imposing five feet eleven inches at the age of sixteen, nearly seventeen. He has a puffed out, dark green rucksack hanging off his shoulder, but otherwise is dressed in his usual attire. And he has a familiar, nonchalant-about-to-grow-irritated expression as well.

The gang sitting at the table are very quiet. Cartman looks around helplessly. Kyle is smirking. “Cartman, the fattest turd in town, called someone else fat?”

Clyde looks up at him, eyes red and swollen, staring as though Craig is the lord and saviour Jesus Christ himself.

“Get lost, Craig,” Cartman snorts “you’re not cool enough to stand by us, let alone hang out with us.”

“Yeah, cause hanging out with you is so high up on my priority list,” Craig answers, eyes rolling, “I should kick your fat ass for causing a scene at Tweek. Bros. _Again_. Clyde, why are you still hanging out with him?”

“Yeah Clyde, why are you hanging out with us?” Cartman repeats, fixing Clyde with a stare, daring him to blurt out the truth. Cartman would happily die today if he got to see Craig’s heart broken into a thousand pieces. But annoyingly for Cartman, Clyde is fiercely loyal.

“Cause you were busy and I’m bored,” Clyde answers with surprising total confidence. They’re doing this for Craig’s sake after all.

Tweek returns with their orders, hand only shaking a little when he lowers the tray to the table. Craig stands straighter beside him, positively beaming. “Hey, babe,” he says, lightly touching his hip and dipping to press a peck to his cheek. “You nearly done?”

Tweek nods, picking up cups and plates to place them on the table. “One camomile tea, one caramel latte with a triple caramel shot, one chocolate cake, one pack of cookies and one vanilla cheesecake.”

“Uh, excuse me,” Cartman gripes, “you forgot the whipped cream, you weird-“

This time Stan boots him in the other shin. “Do you want Craig to kick your ass again?”

Craig hits Cartman on the head with his balled fist, leaving it there whilst he growls, “don't make me beat the shit out of you again, I’m tired and I’ve got a date with my boyfriend. Got it?”

The only reason Cartman relents is because he knows the outcome of this whole escapade has the potential to be way too good ruin at this point. So he swallows his pride and nods. “I’m sooo sorry, Craig,” he drawls, batting his eyelashes. It’s pretty creepy and unsettling. “I was being like totally uncool to your friend and your boyfriend. I’m like soooo sorry.”

Craig’s lip upturns. “Sure you are,” he grumbles, taking Tweek’s hand, “c’mon babe, let’s get outta here. You cool, Clyde?”

Clyde is over it. He nods, looking between his friends’ linked fingers. “All cool, Craig.”

“Tweek was way suspicious,” Stan says once Tweek has hung up his apron and left with Craig. “Avoiding questions, lying. That’s pretty sketchy.”

Kyle sighs. “Yeah, I have to agree. And we have proof he was lying.”

“See?” Cartman says around a mouth full of chocolate cake. “And you guys didn’t believe Butters. I believed him because I’m the only one who really has his back.” And he’ll look forward to letting him know. He can already hear the grateful ‘oh, Eric’. Figuring out how to manipulate that situation will be the first thing he does after he’s watched the Craig-Tweek symbiosis go down in flames.

Kyle sends him a nasty scowl, only to sigh again, a little more forlornly this time. “I didn’t want to believe it, but something really is going on.”

“I still don’t believe it,” Clyde insists, still loyal to his friends.“Those two are solid. Tweek wouldn’t cheat.”

“Come on, Clyde. Look at the facts,” Kyle counters. “Butters saw him kissing someone else at the mall. And he went to the mall at a really odd time when most shops were closed. And he then lied about being at the mall in the first place. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, Clyde but all of that is pretty damn fishy.”

Clyde’s head sinks, along with his shoulders. “Fine, but for the record, _I_ believe in Tweek.”

“Okay so what next?” Stan asks, getting the conversation back on track. “They’re hanging out now.”

“Clyde, where will they be?” Cartman asks after noisily swallowing a fat wedge of cake. Kyle eyes him with open disgust.

“Dude, I’m not like some expert on their relationship,” Clyde protests. The group continue to stare at him leading him to huff with frustration and blush awkwardly. “Fine! Probably Craig’s house because his parents will be out and even if they’re in, they’re more chill than Tweek’s. God damn it.”

“See, Clyde? Nothing wrong with admitting to living vicariously through them just because you can’t get any chicks,” Cartman smirks. Clyde doesn’t even dignify it with a response, his head sinking lower.

“So we stake out Craig’s?” Kyle prompts, looking to each of them for approval.

“You are way too into this, dude,” Stan mutters, rubbing his eyes.

“Stan, c’mon. They’re our friends,” Kyle says.

‘ _They’re really not_ ,’ Stan thinks, but lets it go. He’ll go along with it because he’s got nothing better to do and it beats sitting around the house all day, watching his dad get drunk. “Fine,” he nods.

“I still think they’re okay, but I’ll come,” Clyde agrees.

Kenny makes a muffled sound of agreement, although his motives aren’t that clear.

“Okay,” Cartman steps back in, easily seizing leadership back. He pushes his near-spotless plates back and slides back to his feet. “Let’s go.”

—

They spend nearly two hours crouched outside of the bushes opposite Craig’s house. Despite their natural acclimation to the year-round cold, it’s still December and their lack of movement means that the freezing temperature sinks into their bones in no time. Stan complains frequently, but Cartman hushes him with a hiss and a wave of his hand, never dropping his binoculars from where they’re fixed on Craig’s house.

“Did I miss anything?” Clyde asks as he returns from his fifth journey to his house to refill the thermos with more hot tea.

“Still no,” Cartman clicks his tongue. “They’re so fucking in there,” he mutters.

“No way,” Clyde scoffs. He’s pretty certain he’d know if Craig had gone and lost his v-card. Or at least pretty certain. Fairly certain.

“They are. His parents aren’t home. They’re totally fucking,” Cartman breaks off, swivelling to face them with wide eyes. A grin splits across his face and he looks for all the world like a kid seeing Santa on Christmas Eve. “Dude we should so go and grab Butters’ dad’s drone and record them.”

Kyle, Stan and Clyde stare back with varying levels of horror. Kenny looks intrigued. “Dude, why would you want to _watch_ them have sex. That’s pretty fucking gay,” Stan scowls.

“No it’s not!” Cartman argues back, though his voice has raised an octave. “It’s so not. It’d be funny to watch them suck at it!”

“Dude, just admit you want to watch them screw. I know you used to collect the fanart.”

“Guys!” Kyle breaks in. He sounds excited, rather than irritated, which surprises Stan and Cartman into breaking off their impending argument. “That’s it! Butters!”

“What about him?” Clyde asks.

“We go back to the source. There’s gotta be something we’ve missed,” Kyle says, nodding with certainty.

“Beats doing this,” Stan agrees. He wriggles his toes and finds that he can barely feel them. Yep. Definitely beats doing this.

It takes Cartman a little more convincing, but then they’re off, trudging stiffly down the street until they’re back in Stan, Kyle and Cartman’s neighbourhood. They’ve warmed up considerably by the time they reach Butters’ house, but Stan is still eyeing his own home and dreaming of hot showers when they knock the door.

Stephen Stotch answers, scanning the motley crew with his usual unhappy scowl in place. “If you’re after Butters, you’re out of luck,” he announces with a significant amount of gravity.

Kenny steps forward, loosening his hood enough to make his voice slightly less muffled. “It’s important, Mr. Stotch,” he says filling his voice with so much faux sweetness that it almost oozes. He figures that he might be their best chance to get past the dragon at the drawbridge. He’s one of the only kids who really hangs out at the Stotch household and he hopes that familiarity will buy his way in.

“It may be important to you _Mister_ McCormick, but Butters is grounded. He thought it would be funny to disrespect his teachers by wearing a sweater with a slur against women on it! Well I won’t stand for that!”

Kyle frowns, casting his mind back to the day before since the idea of Butters wearing an offensive sweater is peculiar. It takes him a moment before the vivid image comes to him: a red and green sweater with candy cane writing on it. It had swamped Butters’ slight form and made him look like a dork.

“Uh. Mr. Stotch, it was a Christmas sweater. It said ‘ _ho ho ho_ ’,” he points out.

“Don’t you stick up for him! I’m not above calling your parents, _Mister_ Broflovski,” Mr. Stotch snaps. “Now please leave so that Butters can reflect on his behaviour.”

With that, the door is shut in their faces. Cartman doesn’t wait around, stepping back and bellowing Butters’ name.

A moment later, Butters’ bedroom window swings open. “Hey, fellas,” he says, sounding glum.

“Butters, we gotta talk to you!” Cartman shouts up.

“I’d love to, Eric, but I’m grounded. My dad is awful sore about my Christmas sweater. I didn’t know it was offensive,” he says forlornly, rubbing his hands together.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah no one cares,” Cartman shoots back. “We’re here about Tweek cheating on Craig.”

Butters’ eyes go wide and he moves to crouch over his windowpane. “Shh! What if someone hears and Craig finds out and it makes him sad?”

“Oh that’d be just _awful_ ,” Cartman replies, reeking of insincerity. “That’s why we want to get to the bottom of it. We want to help Craig and Tweek work through it.”

“You really think they can?” Butters asks, looking hopeful.

“Butters we need you to cast your mind back, Okay?” Kyle breaks in, shooting Cartman a glare. “We need to know as much about this guy as possible.”

Butters looks surprised at that. “What? But everyone here knows him,” he says, dumbfounded.

“What?” Kyle’s own eyes grow wide. He shares a look with the rest of the guys. “We _know_ him?”

“Well sure you do, silly!” Butters replies. “Although I never pegged Tweek as liking older fellas. Poor Craig. Maybe he likes a more mature man,” Butters wonders aloud, touching his chin with a long, thin finger in thought.

The new information is enough to send the group reeling. For the first time, Clyde looks genuinely worried.

“Who is it, Butters?” Kyle presses.

“Didn’t I tell you? It’s-”

“Butters!” Mr. Stotch’s voice explodes from behind Butters, making him jump so much that for a heart-stopping moment he looks like he’s going to fall from his window.

“Aw, jeez, fellas I have to go, I’m in trouble!” Butters shouts, hurriedly moving back from his window and slamming it shut. The shouting that follows is dulled, but still makes Kyle and Stan wince.

Well, they got their answer. Sort of.

—

“This is way worse than I thought,” Kyle says, the group now assembled in his room after the shock of Butters’ revelation has sunk in. He’s sat backwards on his computer chair, arms crossed on the back of it. Cartman is leaning back against Kyle’s headboard, Stan on the windowsill with his legs propped on the bed, and the others cross legged on the floor. “Tweek could be in trouble if he’s seeing some older guy.”

“What if he’s been groomed!?” Clyde squeaks. “We should tell Craig!”

“What, no way!” Cartman snaps, “We still don’t have the evidence.”

“But what if Tweek _is_ in trouble?” Stan says warily. “Isn’t that more important than whether or not he’s cheating on his boyfriend?”

“Uh, no,” Cartman answers with some level of disgust, “the bimbo made his bed already. Only we can get to the bottom of this.”

“I’m pretty sure the cops can do that better,” Kyle says, rolling his eyes. “Look, today’s a write-off since they’re together, and we know tomorrow Tweek’s working until late and Craig is busy. But I do sort of agree with Cartman. We need to find out more info and get some hard evidence. And the only way we can do that is by sticking to plan: on Saturday we follow Tweek Tweak.”

—

So they’re back at the mall. They know Craig is out of town visiting his grandma before Christmas. They’ve forgone the camouflage, for which all but Cartman are grateful. And they’ve successfully tracked Tweek’s movements. He’d stopped to get a smoothie (strawberry, banana and coconut with a shot of coffee- gross) and then nipped into the bathroom for a piss. Now he’s on route to the food quarter where a variety of irritating Christmas related events are happening.

The hum of cheesy Christmas songs is growing louder as the group approaches, diving into shop doorways, or behind enormous plastic bushes every time Tweek turns around. He looks nervous, and it makes the boys even more suspicious of what he’s up to.

“He’s always nervous of crowds, but he’s not normally that bad,” Clyde says as they crouch behind a giant, singing Santa Claus. Tweek is looking intently in the window of a gadget shop, tapping his chin and bouncing on his toes, the occasional yank and tug of his shirt indicating his levels of anxiety. Running a hand through his hair, Tweek heads inside and comes out carrying a large bag, and a smile on his face.

“Hey, what do you think he bought?” Stan says curiously.

“Maybe it’s for that guy…” Kyle wonders out loud, emerging from their hiding place. “Come on, let’s go before we lose him!”

They follow Kyle quickly until Tweek comes to a stop outside Santa’s Grotto. There’s a long line of kids excitedly waiting with their parents. Tweek looks around (the group hides behind a flashing reindeer), and then digs his phone out of his pocket, tapping out a text, and sliding it back into his pocket.

“What is he doing…” Cartman murmurs, eyes narrowed. He presses his binoculars to his eyes, adjusting the lenses. “He’s just standing there — wait! Someone is coming out!”

“Dude that’s just Santa,” Stan says, “Don't get too excited.”

Kenny mumbles something, and they all burst into laughter - except Cartman.

“I do not want to sit on Santa's lap, Kenny! Shut up, you assholes!” Cartman protests.

“You did last year,” Kyle quips, grinning.

“That’s a lie you stupid—!”

“Guys, look!” Token interrupts. They all turn their attention back to their target. Santa is casually leaning on the fake snow covered picket fence lining the grotto, and he’s chatting to Tweek, who is smiling broadly, no longer twitching. When Santa leans in to press a lingering kiss to Tweek’s lips, they all gasp in horror.

“No way. No way, Butters was right,” Stan says in disbelief.

“Tweek really is cheating on Craig,” Kyle adds. “With… Santa?”

“Guys, this is so awesome,” Cartman says, pulling his phone out to snap ten photos and a short video.

“Dude, do you need a video of Tweek kissing some guy?” Stan says, nose wrinkled because he knows exactly what Cartman’s ulterior motive is for a video of two gay guys making out.

“It’s for _Craig_ ,” Cartman insists.

“Sure it is,” Stan replies dryly.

“Dude, I can’t believe it,” Clyde says, sounding legitimately sad. Token moves closer to him, lifting a hand and resting it on Clyde’s shoulder. “I don’t know how to break it to Craig, man. I mean, who is this guy?”

“I know. It really sucks,” Token agrees with a sigh.

“Butters must have got a better look,” Kyle says. “He said the guy was older.”

“Dude, Butters is a fucking idiot,” Cartman says dismissively. “He probably still thinks that Santa is real.”

“Come on,” Kyle argues, although he doesn’t sound all that convinced. “He’s not _that_ naive.”

“What do you think will happen..?” Stan asks, looking around the group.

“Twenty bucks says Craig cries like a pussy,” Cartman replies.

“No way,” Kyle snaps. Any pretence that he’s occupying the moral high ground dissolves a second later when he follows up with: “Fifty says he beats the shit out of mall Santa.”

Kenny laughs noisily and replies with a muffled comment.

“You’re not wrong,” Stan agrees. “That would be a pretty epic fight.”

“Do you guys mind?” Token interrupts in a voice. “You might find this hilariously entertaining, but these are our _friends_.”

“How are we gonna tell him?” Clyde moans, gripping Token’s sleeve and looking inconsolable.

“When is he back from his grandma’s?” Stan asks, feeling a little bit guilty (although not guilty enough to not taste excitement over the prospect of Craig and a mall Santa getting into a fist fight.)

“Tomorrow,” Clyde sighs. He moves around the reindeer to peek over at Tweek. His heart sinks when he sees him leaning against the picket fence, eyes angled down at his phone as he wears a silly, dreamy smile. He looks totally smitten and Clyde can’t help hating him a little bit. Craig doesn’t deserve this. No matter how cool this douchey Santa is behind the shitty, fake beard.

“I say we do it at school,” Cartman says with barely suppressed glee. “We can put up posters and-”

“ _No_ ,” Token interrupts him. “No posters. No internet exposés. We all know what you’re in this for, Cartman and I can deal with it because there really is something going on. But do you really want Craig to beat the crap out of you once he’s done dealing with this other guy? Because that’s what he’ll do if you broadcast this all over the school.”

Cartman gives him a sour look as he mulls that over. “For the record, Craig could so _not_ kick my ass because I’m buff as fuck,” he grunts. “But because I’m nice, I’ll let you break the news to him in your own pussy way.”

“Wow, thanks,” Token shoots back. “What do you think, Clyde?”

Clyde sighs, sinking down into a squat and cutting a forlorn figure as he does so. “I guess we go and see him tomorrow at his house. He probably won’t believe us so we’ll need to show him the pictures.”

“So who tells him?” Stan asks, stamping on Cartman’s foot before he has a chance to volunteer himself.

The group falls silent for only a moment before a look of understanding passes between them and they nod in unison.

“Butters.”

—

Butters is close to tears as they march him up the path to Craig’s house. They’d woken him up early, all piling into his room and telling him that it was his solemn duty to break the news to Craig and that they’d back him up. Because they’re the kind of friends who wouldn’t let him do it alone. They’d reminded him that he’d seen it first and, as the kind of fellow who always did the right thing, it was his responsibility to tell Craig the truth.

Butters is grateful for their support. They really are the best friends a guy could ask for. He does wish that they’d stand a little closer than six feet away from him though.

Craig answers after Butters raps the door with three nervous knocks. He looks momentarily perplexed at finding Butters on his doorstep, although his expression quickly dissolves into an irritated scowl at the sight of the others.

“What the fuck do you all want?” Craig asks, instantly suspicious.

“Craig, we have to talk to you. It’s real important,” Butters says with barely restrained urgency.

Craig glances around the group again. He doesn’t look any less dubious, but he fixes his eyes on Butters, gaze boring into him. “You get five minutes. And only because you’re too much of a dipshit to lie.”

“Thank you, Craig,” Butters gushes, brushing the insult off.

The rest of the gang pile in after Butters. Craig sighs and shuts the door behind them. “I’m not inviting you to my room,” he mutters. “Or offering drinks. You get five minutes and that’s it.”

“You might want to sit down, Craig,” Cartman says gravely. Craig scans the room in response, raising an eyebrow pointedly at the fact that every seat in the living room is occupied.

“I’ll stand,” he says dryly. Then he looks over at Clyde. “Why are _you_ a part of this?”

Clyde shrugs, looking miserably at his lap. “Craig, we really do need you to listen.”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Craig relents after studying Clyde for a moment, allowing some concern to slip into his voice.

“Craig, it’s serious and we thought you should know,” Cartman seizes control of the conversation again. “Which is why Butters is going to tell you.”

Butters jumps and makes a small ‘eep’ sound. “Well… well y’see,” he stutters, jittering with neves. “Well Craig, y’see, it’s-”

“Dude, Tweek’s cheating on you. Butters saw the whole thing,” Cartman jumps in.

Craig blinks. “Uh… _What_?” He sounds incredulous, as if the thought is so ridiculous that it’s not even capable of sinking in. Clyde and Token shift in their seats, feeling the gravity of the situation sink in now that it’s been spoken aloud. It leaves a bitter taste in their mouths. The others might be in this for the drama, but Craig is their friend and they know just how integral Tweek is to his life. He’s shaped Craig into who he is today. Not through any unhealthy symbiosis or codependency, but through helping Craig start to become a better-balanced person who has a little more faith in the world than he did when he was younger.

“It’s… it’s true,” Clyde says quietly, sounding broken. “I didn’t believe it, but then we trailed him and saw it with our own eyes. He was kissing someone else, man. I’m so sorry.” He breaks off, breath hitching.

Craig’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Dude, Tweek _isn’t_ cheating on me,” he insists. The others can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he searches desperately for the logical solution.

“We saw it, Craig,” Token says, sad. “I’m sorry, but we saw it.”

“Yeah, brah. I got pictures and a video too. That’s _evidence_ , Craig,” Cartman adds.

Craig swallows sharply, reaching out blindly for something to steady himself. He finds the windowsill and curls in on himself slightly as if someone has just nailed him in the gut.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but you didn’t,” Craig says, insistently. He sounds breathless though, his voice carrying none of its usual strength. “Tweek wouldn’t do that to me.”

Kyle shifts, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. Where before the promise of drama providing a tempting lure, he’s suddenly struck by just _how_ much Craig loves Tweek. The realisation that he’s about to watch Craig’s heart break isn’t a good one and he wishes that he wasn’t a part of this any more.

Cartman -on the other hand- true to sociopathic form, holds his phone aloft and waves the images around. “Dude, I have a video. Tweek was _making out_ with him long enough for me to take a video. Deal with it, Craig.”

Craig goes pale. It’s so noticeable that everyone sees the colour drain from his face and leave him ashen. For a moment, at least half the room’s occupants worry that he’s going to be sick. Then, without warning, he surges forward, snatching Cartman’s phone off him.

“Craig!” Kyle warns, but it’s too late. Craig’s eyes are fixed on the screen, and he’s using his pointer finger to scroll quickly through the pictures.

“What the fuck?” Craig sounds stupefied, eyes wide and fixed on the screen.

“I’m so sorry, man!” Clyde wails. “I didn’t want it to be true. I’m sorry!”

Slowly Craig looks up from the phone. He has a weird expression on his face as he looks around the room, eyes moving from face to face, studying. It isn’t until the silence has grown pregnant with tension that he groans noisily and rubs his wrist over the bridge of his nose. “For fuck’s sake,” he growls, pinning them with a fierce scowl. “You fucking idiots nearly gave me a fucking heart attack. That’s _me_!”

“No!” Butters wails. “It’s Santy Claus, Craig. He’s cheating on you with Santy Claus!”

“What the- you _seriously_ thought that Tweek was cheating with the _actual_ Santa?” Stan speaks up, fixing Butters with a disbelieving stare.

“Called it!” Cartman crows victoriously.

“Let me get this straight. You came to my house to tell me that you thought Tweek was cheating on me with _Santa Claus_ ,” Craig says slowly, rubbing his temples under his signature blue hat.

“No,” Cartman says as if Craig is stupid. “Butters thought he was cheating on you with Santa Clause. We just thought it was some douchebag at the mall.”

There’s a moment of silence when belated realisation dawns on everyone in the room, with the exception of Craig and Butters. It’s almost visual when the penny drops and everyone but a fretting Butters turns in unison to stare at Craig.

“Dude-” Kyle starts.

Cartman interrupts him with an explosion of hysterical laughter. “Are you _serious_? You’re a freaking _mall Santa_?” Craig answers by crossing his arms and scowling. “Oh my God that’s so gay!”

“But you said you were visiting your grandma this weekend,” Clyde speaks up, confused.

“I was lying, you dickhole,” Craig replies. “I wasn’t going to go around singing about being a shitty mall Santa was I? Wish I fucking had now, since you assholes assumed my boyfriend was fucking a mythical figure.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a Santa?” Kyle asks, trying to hide his smirk.

Craig says nothing for a moment, his cheeks tinged the faintest red. “...I was too tall to be an elf.”

Cartman explodes into another noisy bout of laughter, howling like he’s going to piss himself. Craig shoots him an irritated glare, but says nothing.

“So Tweek isn’t cheating?” Stan clarifies.

“No,” Craig grinds out. “I took a shitty Christmas job. I didn’t think it’d be such a huge fucking deal. Just my luck.”

“This...th-this is too good,” Cartman says, cackling still. “Oh my god, school is gonna love this.”

Craig rolls his eyes, embarrassed, but not enough to give a shit about the school finding out about his less than illustrious short term career. Mostly he’s just happy the guy he is utterly in love with isn’t cheating on him, so it really is the lesser of two evils.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kyle says, patting Craig’s arm despite the grin still lingering on his face, “we were worried Tweek was being groomed by an older man. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“Wow, thank you,” Craig replies, deadpan.

“In every way!” Cartman adds, his shrill laughter kicking up an octave. He’s nearing breathless. So Craig takes the opportunity to snatch up his phone, deleting every photo and video before Cartman can even move.

“Hey!” He shrieks, lunging for his phone. Craig effortlessly lifts it out of Cartman’s reach using his height to his advantage. “You fucking asshole, give it back!”

“Nope,” Craig answers.

“Aw, what’s wrong Cartman, no more spank bank pictures?” Kyle says simperingly.

Cartman, now red in the face from laughing, exertion and embarrassment, loses his remaining energy and sags. “You’re all fucking dicks,” he says grumpily, disappointed his hard gathered evidence is gone with the tap of a finger. He’s growing sloppy. Usually he would have backed everything up with twelve copies stored at different locations. “Fuck this, I’m going home.”

—

“Fellas! Fellas!” Butters cries, rushing up to the table and slamming down his lunch tray. The group look up from their lunches, intrigued. “You’ll never guess what! Now Craig is cheating on Tweek!”

“What? Oh come on,” Kyle says, understandably incredulous after recent events. “How do you know this time?”

“I saw!” Butters yelps, distressed. He’s wringing his hands again, looking around nervously. “Craig was in Burger King, and he was getting a double cheese burger with fries with a cola, and also—“

“Get to the point, dude,” Stan sighs.

“It was a Christmas elf! Craig is cheating on Tweek with a Christmas elf!”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Kyle says.

“Well, well, well,” Cartman joins in. “Looks like stake out Phase Two is about to begin.”

Kyle groans and drops his head into his hands. “We need new friends,” He mutters.

“Yup,” Stan agrees. It’s top of his wishlist to Santa this year, after all.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was triggered from me challenging my girlfriend whilst sitting on the sofa singing: “Someone saw Tweek kissing Santa Clause” 
> 
> We ended up writing it together, which was loads of fun. 
> 
> I also did an accompanying picture to this here: http://mareepysheepy.tumblr.com/post/168900641837/accompanying-picture-for-the-festive-fanfiction


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